Rest
by Zoe-eoZ
Summary: Sitting Ducks missing scenes. John got shot, and we never got to see enough of that. This is still not enough, but a glimpse at some missing scenes. How he makes it back to the Lair with Cara, and how Marla really reacted to it...
1. Shot

**I know this is an old show and a small fandom, but I thought I'd write something anyways. And since I did, why not share?**

 **There'll be a second part to this, featuring Marla on the day Stephen brought John home with him, and maybe a third in which Cara feels guilty for throwing him out. Just some missing scenes type stuff.**

 **If I get to it, I might also write a SHIELD crossover, but we shall see.**

 **Always happy to hear from anyone reading this!**

* * *

…

The loud metallic bangs of the shots ring in his ears as he teleports them out of harm's way. They're already airborne, neither quite here nor there, when he feels it.

The searing sensation of hot metal going into his body, a pain that shouldn't be familiar, but is.

He has to materialize them quicker than he thought, he can't get her out of here. Not now. Not yet.

They tumble out of teleportation and he slumps on the ground, hard.

Shit.

At least he got the girl to safety. Astrid. Stephen's pretty bestie.

He takes a shuddering breath as he lifts himself up, barely hearing what she says. Poor girl is very obviously in shock and he would like to give her a hug or a pat on the back and some encouraging words or something. Scratch that, he would have liked to just get her the hell out of here and back to the safety of the Lair, but that ain't gonna happen now.

He swallows, feeling his strength seep out of him along with his blood. His autopilot takes over as he scans the room - supply room had been a good choice at least - and carefully manages to pull himself up on a table.

Poor Astrid doesn't know it yet, but she'll have to step up and doctor him a bit.

* * *

…

Astrid feels like the floor is ripped from under her. This was supposed to be a fun experience, an exciting one. Her audition. She had had so many hopes attached to it, she had pictured all the scenarios.

And none of them had included an attempt on her life and a guy - even a cute handsome guy - to take a bullet for her. She is Astrid Finch, for goodness sake, just a senior in high school, and not a most wanted criminal or something. She hasn't accomplished anything in life yet, certainly nothing that would warrant these people's interest in her.

"John?"

He's talking to her, telling her what to do. He's still the calm one, the one in control, even though he got freaking shot, and how does he do it? How…

This is not as new to him as it is to her. The realization hits her hard, and she feels momentarily stunned and terribly sad for him.

...

The sadness only grows later. When she tells him of her bucket list. Carnegie Hall, Tokyo, surfing, kids. She thinks her list is ridiculous, embarrassing, but when he says he's never even thought of a life like that for himself, an ache spreads inside of her that makes her gently smile down on him. Her hand on him, reddened by his blood, she sits with him, hoping against hope that he will gain that strength that he says he needs to teleport.

But the strength never comes back. The pain grows too strong.

She sees him drift away, and all she can do is sing to try and give him something else to focus on.

Until even that is not enough anymore.

* * *

…

How come that he still isn't used to the pain more? He should have built up tremendous tolerance by now, shouldn't he? After everything he's been through?

He swallows, the motion taking too much effort. His mouth is too dry and he wants to ask for something to drink, but he is so goddamn weak and he can't even form the words anymore.

Poor Astrid. He clenches his jaw as he fights to stay conscious, for her benefit more than for himself, but it isn't going so well.

There's a spiral opening up, dark and black and it's dragging him down, the pain taking over and…

"I… I will be queen, and you, you will be king…"

What a beautiful voice she has…

They really shouldn't get involved with humans. She'll have to pay, just like. .

"John. John?!"

…

He feels her fingers in his side, feels her tug and pull at the bullet, hears her talk to someone… Cara?

~ _You'll be okay, John._ ~

He can't respond to her telepathically. She's too far away, or maybe he is. Maybe he is really just too weak still. But he can hear her…

Everything is so hazy. Except for the pain. It's too much.

* * *

…

When Cara pops up, Astrid is ridiculously relieved. Everything is going to be okay.

But then the girl can't teleport them all out and the panic is back. For herself but also for…

"John."

He can't die here. Or be captured. Not because of her. Not because of her…

She races with Cara regardlessly, because he tells them to take Astrid, and they are not going to argue with him now. There is no time.

…

While they try to escape, she asks Cara why she can't teleport them both out, and Cara gives her a strange look before she replies.

"He's too weak."

Astrid frowns. Wielding that horrible weapon and following Stephen's tough looking crush or friend or whatever the other girl is, she tries to understand.

"I know he is too weak to teleport, but I thought you were gonna—"

"Usually when we teleport in larger numbers, the others have to help out with their own powers."

"Powers," Astrid repeats drily, not understanding.

Cara glares as they rush through the corridors. She is clearly not in the mood for explanations, but for some reason she makes an effort. Astrid suspects it's because the girl is trying to make her feel calmer.

"You're human, so I have to take on all of your weight, and since John can't help me, I can't bring him along."

"But why not teleport me out of the supply room and come straight back for him?"

"They know a Tomorrow Person came to your rescue. If I had teleported out of that room, they would have been on him instantly. This way, we have a better chance to get _him_ out, too…" She trails off as if she suddenly caught herself saying too much.

"Oh god," Astrid breathes. "He's not going to die, is he? They're not going to kill him if they find him? He came to help me…"

Cara sighs. "Honestly? He has a better chance of surviving an encounter with them than you. They _want_ to kill you. Him, they want alive…"

Astrid swallows at the news, stunned at how little she really knows about Stephen and his crazy new group of… Yeah, what are they? His friends?

* * *

…

John is going under. As if waves are crashing above his head, or an avalanche is rolling over him, he is being dragged deeper down. Is this really it?

He licks his dry lips, waiting. For Jedikiah, that man that he can't stop loving like a freaking father when he should hate him, hate him with everything he got.

Or for his agents, who will surely roughly pull him up, making the pain explode into a million tiny shock waves, before hurling him in to Ultra to be patched up and then tortured. There'll never be an end to the pain, will there?

A tear escapes his eye, but before he can even completely give up and give in to unconsciousness, Cara is back, just like she promised.

He smiles weakly. She shouldn't have come… He won't be able to walk anywhere, and…

With a whoosh they're gone, and just in time. The bullets don't catch up with them, if barely.

* * *

…

They fall in a heap, Cara half landing on top of him, and he isn't going to pick himself up this time, no effort will work. He simply can't.

The darkness envelops him yet again, and he is dimly aware of how a shocked looking Astrid rushes over alongside a slightly panicky Russell, who then helps Cara pull him up unceremoniously and together, they carry him over to the couch.

"We need medical supplies, stat," Cara yells out to one of the other fearful looking Lair inhabitants, and Russell nods to the kid then jerks his head in the direction of Tim's room.

"Already got everything from the list Tim gave us," he explains, "It's on the table."

The other kid nods and is off, then back in just a minute. By then, Cara has already pushed John's shirt up to examine the wound Astrid stitched up haphazardly before, and her forehead wrinkles with concern when she sees just how soaked with blood everything is.

"Oh John," she breathes, acutely aware of Stephen's friend hovering behind her, and when the girl whispers a small, "I did everything you said…" she has to close her eyes for a bit to rein in the unjustified urge to yell at the girl. None of this is her fault, of course. It's just… Cara can't lose John. He was the one to pick her up when she was at her lowest, he is the one constant in her life, and she can't be without him.

"I know," she therefore gently acknowledges, before getting to work, dousing the wound with antiseptic until John's groans and thrashing become too much.

"Someone hold him down," she orders, then, leaning down until her mouth almost touches his ear, one hand gently stroking his cheek, she whispers, "I'm sorry, John. It's almost over. We just gotta make sure you don't get an infection…"

He chuckles weakly before it turns into a cough, then a wince, but he nods at her, and says, "I know…"

* * *

…

He tries to swallow and can't. Closing his eyes against the pain, he groans to stifle a yell that is threatening to erupt out of him, but then he can't fight it anymore, because, goddammit, Cara is pouring and tugging and doing who knows what to patch him up, and he has already had one woman's fingers in his abdomen, he can't suffer through it again.

But then it's finally over, or, at least the worst of it, and when he looks up, he sees Cara's gentle smile that he tries to reciprocate.

"Can't take no for an answer, can you?"

She wiggles her eyebrows and her smile widens, but he can feel her again, he can feel how scared she was there for a moment.

~ _I'm not gonna die that easily, Cara. ~_

 _~ You better not. ~_

Despite his words to her, he's finally drifting off again, and Cara places a gentle kiss on his brow.

 _~ Rest, John. ~_

Eventually, she gets up slowly and leaves him.

He moves a little to try and get comfortable as he hears Russell say a few words, hears others clean up and leave. He vaguely notices that his arm is awkwardly dangling off the couch, and he tries to pick it up but fails miserably, huffing when he notices it. But then he feels someone tug at his hand and gently place it across his abdomen for him. Looking up, he sees Astrid.

"Hey…" She smiles, then lifts up a shirt she's holding. "Russell thought you might wanna change into something a little less… bloody."

He tries to chuckle but it doesn't make it past his lips. Astrid doesn't seem to mind.

"Thank you," he rasps. "Doubt I'll be able to… uh…"

She smiles again, a mesmerizing smile, but before she can say anything, Cara is back, out of nowhere.

"Thanks. I take it from here," she tells the other girl and holds out her hands for the shirt.

* * *

…

Astrid hands the piece of clothing over quickly, nods, then lingers awkwardly while Cara has already turned away, leaning over John, whispering something before carefully lifting him up. Another groan escapes him and Astrid feel so… lost and guilty that she turns around and leaves just as Cara pushes John's shirt higher, then over his head, allowing him to lean heavily against her.

"Almost there," she coos, and Astrid suddenly has the feeling she is intruding, that this is not her place anymore, but when she looks at the two one last time before heading out, she notices John casting a glance in her direction, finally managing to smile again.

He'll be fine. And so will she. She has to believe it.

They have a strange bond now, his blood is on her fingers, or was, it's probably still under her fingernails, and she can barely breathe at the thought, but her mind is muddled now anyways, and she can't think clearly and all she sees is his smile, his blood, his hand dangling off the couch, now Cara taking care of him.

She has to get out of there. She can't wait for Stephen to come and get her; he better be quick, because if he isn't, she is going to break down and with John out of commission, she doubts there's anyone else down here that could or would do what that man has done for her.

Wasn't there some Chinese proverb or something where you owe someone your life when they saved yours? Where you are responsible for them as much as they are for you?

Who knows, maybe she'll be able to one day repay him. Somehow. Strangely she really wants to believe it's true.

Wants to believe she has a connection to this man now. Because she does.


	2. Mother

…

When Stephen brings home the young man that works with him, Marla is less than thrilled.

He looks wasted or exhausted or sick, she can't quite tell, and the way Stephen announces that he stays rubs her the wrong way, but she is tired and too busy to argue, so she lets it be.

What harm could it be, really, to let this kid spend a night on her couch?

Fine.

* * *

…

When she gets home from her night shift, she only remembers the stranger when she's already through the door and walks toward the living room, tossing her shoes as she goes. Her feet are sore and she rubs them absently when her gaze falls on the man on her couch - the couch she just wanted to sit on, and she presses her lips together, suddenly upset that she can't just slump into the cushions for a moment and rest before her kids wake up and need breakfast.

Being a single working mom can be a bitch, and after a shift like this last one, she could really use a vacation. But Marla Jameson doesn't really get days off, not to mention go on vacation.

She stops and thinks. Her promise to her oldest son is fullfilled, the new day is starting, the morning still young and she realizes that she doesn't owe this stranger anything, so it's perfectly fine to wake him and tell him it's time to go.

She might offer him breakfast with the boys, first, that way it won't quite feel like she is throwing him out. But after that...

...

Slowly, she approaches his sleeping form, extending a slender arm to gently touch his shoulder, trying to stir him awake. He doesn't move, however, and she briefly debates getting Stephen to do the dirty work.

Of course he would probably just argue that his friend or coworker or whatever the hell he is, should be allowed to stay a bit longer after all, and Marla is not ready yet for a fight with her child. So she shakes the man a little more forcefully, and his eyes suddenly dart open and he sits up so quickly that she stumbles a quick step back, apologizing.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to spook you."

The man's - or kid's (he looks so very vulnerable and young all of a sudden) - eyes flicker as he hoists his legs off the couch, a small lopsided grin on his face that vanishes so quickly Marla isn't sure whether maybe she just imagined it was there. He is holding his arm across his body in a suspiciously protective way, and she frowns at him, assessing this stranger anew. Being a nurse has taught her a few extra tricks. She can tell when someone is in pain, even when they're trying to hide it, as she can tell when someone is faking it, and this man is so clearly in pain that she wonders how she didn't catch on to it last night.

"No, I'm sorry. Thanks for letting me stay the night..." He trails off, trying to smile again, but averting his gaze when she doesn't manage to reciprocate. "I'll go now."

He gets up with a grimace, paling so quickly that Marla's instincts kick in and she moves forward swiftly to sling an arm around his waist and gently push him back on the couch, earning herself a wary of confused stare.

"You're hurt," she states matter-of-factly and sees his features fall a bit.

"I'm fine. I'll be out of your hair in a bit, just give me a moment." He swallows, trying but failing to take a deep breath.

She shakes her head, rubbing a hand over her tired eyes. What has Stephen gotten her into here? She can't in good conscience let his friend go without making sure he's okay.

"What happened?" She asks, hands now pressed into her hips, looking at him with her best authoritative mom-impression, and her gaze flickers up the stairs as she suddenly hears footsteps coming closer. Good, Stephen is up. He might as well be here for this.

* * *

...

Stephen comes jogging down the last few steps, squinting at his mother somewhat suspiciously, then looking over to John.

"Good Morning, mom," he says, but his gaze is on his friend, who is now running a hand through his messy hair. "You okay, man?"

John makes a face, suddenly cursing the fact that he allowed Stephen to bring him here. He is not made for this family type setting - or maybe he's just not used to it, certainly not to feeling like a dumb teenager that is about to be reprimanded.

"I should go," he says, plastering another pained smile on his face as he tries to stand up again, hoping that this time, it won't feel like his insides are going to spill out. He licks his too dry lips, stifling a pained grunt as he comes to stand on his two feet, but the world is swaying dangerously for some reason. Awesome. He won't be able to teleport himself anywhere like this. Hell, he isn't even sure he can make it anywhere on foot. Maybe he'll have to ask Stephen for one last favor, bring him over somewhere where he can rest for a little while longer, gaining some strength. The noodle bar maybe…

"You're not going anywhere until I know what's going on with you."

Both he and Stephen look at Marla in a mixture of sheepish alarm, before John composes himself quickly.

"Nothing to worry about. Old injury. It's already half healed—" He breaks off and hisses when Marla suddenly leans forward and pushes his jacket out of the way to reveal his newly bloodstained shirt.

Awesome.

She glares at Stephen, then at him, with an obvious "Really?!" in her expression, and any fight and defiance leaves both young men before they could have even properly built it up.

"Sit down. Now," she orders John and he does as he is told because he knows when it's fruitless to argue. Besides, he isn't going anywhere anytime soon.

* * *

…

Stephen eyes his mother as she assesses John's stitched up side. The guy stoically stares ahead as Marla gently prods the red looking flesh. It's the first time Stephen gets a good look at the hole Astrid tried so haphazardly to sew shut, and he clenches his teeth at the mere thought. He is still a little amazed that Astrid - _his_ Astrid, his best friend and the girl he's grown up with - had it in her to perform field surgery under duress, but he is not really surprised when his mom finally announces, "The wound is infected. You're lucky you're still alive, not to mention able to walk around with this. What kind of doctor thought you fit enough to leave the hospital with this. And those stitches..." Her gaze meets John's and Stephen can tell that there is a whole communication taking place, no telepathy needed.

"I see…" Marla sighs wearily, understanding all too well that no medical professional ever took a look at this young man in front of her. Resolutely, she waves over to her son. "My bag," she orders, and of course he knows what she means and rushes off to get it.

He doesn't need long to find it, and when he hands the large brown bag to his mom, she nods to him briefly before opening it and getting to work.

"You're not really coworkers, are you?" She questions but neither boy answers. "Fine. You don't need to talk. But if I find out that Jedikiah is at all involved in this, you're not going back there, Stephen, is that understood?"

He furtively shoots her a glance and nods, but Marla is too busy cleaning the wound to catch the guilt in his eyes or the strange expression in John's.

"This is a shot wound." She exhales at the sudden realization, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. "This should be reported."

"No," Stephen and John burst out simultaneously, then the older man continues a little less harshly, "Please. I promise I didn't do anything illegal, I wouldn't have come here if that was the case. I have no intention to endanger your family…"

Marla bites her lip, looking from him to her son. Stephen can tell how it's working in her head, but for some reason she eventually just closes her eyes briefly then nods.

"Alright. Let me finish cleaning this up. You need to rest, but you can't do that here."

"Mom."

She shakes her head, continuing over Stephen. "No. I can't have him in the same house with you and Luca. I don't know him and I don't know what happened, and I let him spend the night here anyways. But now he has to go."

"I understand." John swallows, his face so pale now that it makes Stephen frown in sudden worry.

"Mom, maybe—"

"Stephen."

"Your mom is right. I wouldn't want to get your family in trouble." John grins awkwardly. Then, when Marla is finally done, he slowly stands up.

"You can stay a few hours longer, get some breakfast. Then someone should come get you and bring you home."

"Mom, can we—."

"Thank you, Mrs. Jameson," John talks over him, gingerly touching his side. "But I think it's best if I leave now."

Marla takes him in, her mouth making a thin line. She feels slightly guilty for letting him walk, but she has to protect her family, her sons will always come first.

John takes a deep breath, then walks over to the door, past her, past Stephen. He gives the younger one a pat on the shoulder and whispers another thanks when Stephen grabs him by the arm.

"Can you—" teleport, he almost slips, and barely catches himself, relieved when John nods.

"I'll be fine." He pretends to check his phone and says, for Marla's benefit more than anything, "Already texted a friend. She'll be here any second, picking me up."

Stephen raises an eyebrow at him but remains silent, while his mom pipes up from the living room,

"You need rest, John."

He nods at her. "Yeah, sure."

"And if this gets worse, go to the hospital. I won't be able to help you a second time…"

With a last small smile, John is gone, and Stephen glares at his mom, annoyed and disappointed, although he can't exactly fault her for how she reacted.

"You could have let him stay. I told you he doesn't have anywhere to go right now."

Marla's eyes widen. "You heard him, his friend will be picking him up shortly. She can take care of him. I do not want either you or Luca anywhere near this kid again, you hear me?"

"Mom, John is a friend, he's like us, and—"

"No, Stephen. He got shot. I don't know how or by who or whatever the hell kind of trouble he got himself into, but I don't want any of us to have any part in it. Understood? I can't lose you, not over this."

Stephen swallows. Gnawing on his lip, he finally nods. "Yeah, alright," he allows. Because it's not like he doesn't understand.

If only she knew the whole extent of it…

* * *

…

John manages to make it to the nearest metro station, before he realizes he won't be able to go to the lair. Or anywhere. His body is screaming, he is tired and woozy and he doubts he has the ability to teleport, but then he sees a few suits on the train that look a little too suspicious, and sure enough, they fan out once they spot him and all he can do is rush through the train until it stops and he can exit and, racing into a deep dark tunnel, he teleports to the next location that comes into his mind.

Not a good idea. His body is too weak and he barely makes it.

* * *

…

"Geez!" Astrid's chair topples over as she jumps off and to the side, the figure of a man crumpling in on itself right in front of her. Her heart is thumping loudly in her chest and it takes her a few seconds to regain a smidgen of her calm before she eventually carefully takes a step toward who is lying before her. She knows who it is, yet she has to make sure regardlessly. Gently, she touches the leather jacketed arm of the man, then stoops down to turn his face toward her.

"John, what…" _happened_ , she thinks her exclamation to the end, more shocked now that he is unconscious and too warm than that he materialized in her bedroom of all places.

She kneels down, swiping a hand over his cheek, holding it there. "What happened?" She asks again, feeling stupid when she sees the dried blood on his shirt, right above the spot she remembers touching before. She had her fingers in there, digging for that bullet.

This man she barely knows saved her and now she feels agoraphobic and stuck in her room. But suddenly he is here, with her, unconscious, vulnerable, and she doesn't even know why he thought coming to her was a good idea.

Because it's not. She has nothing figured out, least of all her own problems and now he brings more of those, bigger ones. He doesn't look so good at all. Scratch that, he looks ridiculously good, if not her usual type, but there's something about him….

She shakes her head, trying to focus as she frantically tries to find things to make John more comfortable. Gently, she strokes his cheek, her features softening as she does.

"John. Can you hear me? John…"

She needs to get him to her bed. He needs to lie down, but…

"You need to help me. We need to get you to the bed… Come on, John. Please…"

She is tugging at him, breathing a sigh of relief when he eventually opens his eyes a little to stare at her.

"Thank god," it escapes her, and she smiles down on him, but he seems far away.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles, trying to move to stand up and failing. "I shouldn't have. ."

"What's going on, why are you not with your friends?" She knits her brow in worry and confusion, pulling him into a sitting position. Almost instantly, he slumps against her, and she barely catches him, clutching both arms around him. A wince escapes him, and she realizes that she must have grazed his injuries.

"Oh gosh, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?" Of course he isn't, that much is pretty damn obvious. Astrid rolls her eyes at herself. "We should get you to an actual doctor, John. After… after everything…" She trails off, knowing full well that this guy will never ever make a trip to the hospital. She sighs, thinking.

Stephen. She needs to call Stephen. She would call Cara, but it's not like she knows the girl or has her number, and besides… No, it'll have to be Stephen. Plus, his mom is a nurse and will know what to do.

"I can't go back there," John mutters and only then does she realize that either he must have read her mind or she had thought aloud. She frowns at his words.

"Stephen's mom is. ."

"No." He suddenly pulls himself up more and fights himself into a standing position before Astrid quite understands what's happening.

"You should be careful," she softly reprimands him, quickly coming up to hold onto him as she sees him sway dangerously. He grins at her lopsidedly before his expression turns pained again, and she tightens her grip. "Come on. We'll figure something out. Maybe you could call Cara. ."

"Not an option either…"

She scoffs. "Come on, Stephen said you two are. . ." When she looks up into his face, her words ebb away. Something is going on between the two, but she won't get anything else out of him, that much is clear. He is barely hanging in there anymore, really not quite there with her, and, with a sigh, she discards the idea of having him contact Cara and decides to go with her first idea after all.

They make it over to the bed finally and John slumps down heavily as soon as his legs touch against the wooden frame, laying down where she slept just a few hours ago.

"Maybe if I could just… rest for a moment. Get some strength for teleporting somewhere else. ."

His voice breaks off rather than ebbing away, and when Astrid looks at him, she can see that he's lost consciousness again. Okay, no matter what he said, now she is definitely going to call Stephen.

She flops down on the bed next to John and flips out her phone. Affectionately, worriedly stroking his forehead, she quickly makes the call.

* * *

…

Stephen swoops in rather abruptly, but at least this time Astrid had a warning of sorts. After all, she was the one asking him to come over.

She gives an awkward half wave from where she sits next to John on her bed, and Stephen makes a face.

"He wasn't strong enough to teleport," he mumbles to himself in realization when he walks over to his best friend and his fellow Tomorrow Person.

"He did teleport here," Astrid remarks, feeling stupid when she connects the dots. "Oh," she makes. "Yeah, I guess it knocked him right out."

Determinedly, Stephen bends down and picks the taller John up rather unceremoniously. "Thanks, Astrid. I'll take it from here."

"Where are you taking him? He said something about that he can't go back to your place, and I got the impression that things are… a bit," she looks for a word, "weird with Cara?"

Stephen rolls his eyes, pressing his lips together briefly. "Yeah. Uh…" He grimaces. It's not really his place to divulge much about John's struggles with Cara, but looking at his best friend he knows he won't be able to not say anything. "He and Cara had a bit of a fight. She kinda threw him out and—"

"Threw him out?!" Astrid's eyes widen, but Stephen continues on. "So I said he could stay at my place. My mom, though. She, uh, she wasn't exactly… welcoming. But I'll handle it. He needs a place to stay and. ."

"If that was all he needed, he could stay here." Astrid gives her best friend a pointed stare and she notices him cringe a little under it. They both know John doesn't just need somewhere to crash for a while. "He needs medical attention. And he can't go anywhere to get it."

"I'll handle it."

"Your mom doesn't want him there because he has a shot wound, right? I mean, it wouldn't surprise me if. ."

"I said I'll handle it, Astrid. Okay?"

"Right," she says testily, only backing down because she knows Stephen is as worried about their friend as she is, and that he will find a way to deal with it. (Or maybe she just has to believe it because she feels so freaking powerless and doesn't know what to do to help John. He's in this state because of her…)

Stephen sighs resignedly, taking a deep breath as he hoists John into a standing position, wrapping one arm around the man's waist, with the other pulling John's arm over his shoulder.

"We better get going. Thanks for… you know. ."

Astrid nods mildly. "I'll come by later," she then bursts out as an afterthought, just as the two guys flit away in a weird flicker of movement.

Will she ever get used to that?

Stephen's half-nod is the last thing she sees of them before she is alone once more, too alone to distract herself from the stupidity of her last words. How exactly is she going to just go over to Stephen's place if she hasn't been able to leave her home ever since the… the incident?

She closes her eyes, gnawing on her lip. Oh gosh. She has to go now, doesn't she? If anything, she has to make sure John is okay, and that Marla doesn't report him or…

After a deep inhalation she puffs out the air until her lungs feel completely empty, then she takes a fresh breath and leaves her room. Time to work on being able to leave the house again.

* * *

…

The kid is back on the couch when she gets home, as if he never left. Except, now Stephen is watching over him from the adjacent sofa chair, looking up at Marla when she gets back home. Shoulders slumping, she shakes her head. But there is no fight in her.

"Stephen, did you not hear what I said?"

He is quick to get up and apologize, and she already knows that she won't be the one "winning" tonight.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry. But, mom. Please." He swallows, Adam's apple bobbing, and it is obvious that he is contemplating carefully what to say next. Marla had to suppress a smile.

"He's a good guy."

"With a shot wound."

"Do we have to go over this again." It's not a question. She clicks her tongue in annoyance, half turning away from her son. Hadn't she been clear? She doesn't want this kid back in her house. And now here he is again, lying on her couch, looking worse than when he left earlier, but the worst, the worst is that she feels so horribly guilty for having sent him away in the first place.

It's battling inside of her, the urge to help and the urge to protect her family, and she doesn't know what to do until Stephen suddenly says, "Uncle Jed did this to him, okay? So if you really think you're doing this for your family - for our family, think twice."

"What?!"

He raises his eyebrows in answer, as if that explains it all, and in a way, it does. Marla always knew there was something way wrong with Jed and Roger, and now she doesn't know what to think anymore. Her own son is working for his uncle, and…

"Jed shot him?"

"Uh…" Stephen stammers. "Not exactly, no, but.."

"But?! Are you kidding me right now, Stephen? What the hell are you even doing at Ultra? This is insane!" She runs a hand over her face, then struts over to the couch as if her legs are working of their own accord. "You're not going back there," she hisses out angrily, then bends over John's unconscious form, staring helplessly at the kid's troubled looking face. That poor boy… What the hell is Jedikiah doing now?

She hears her son clearing his throat. "Actually. Mom… I kinda have to go in now. If I don't…"

"No." She whips around, but Stephen merely makes a face at her.

"If he finds out John is here, that he's my friend… If I don't show up. ."

It's as if he doesn't know what to say and Marla is pretty certain that that is the case, and for some reason she doesn't feel like pressuring him.

All fight, all anger leaves her as she watches this kid, who is just a few years older than her own son, move uneasily in his sleep, or state of unconsciousness and with a resigned nod, she lets Stephen off the hook.

"Go," she breathes, and his tension seems to pick up momentarily.

"You're not going to. ."

"Call the cops on your friend?" She challenges, and Stephen gives an uncomfortable nod. "Don't worry. I won't. For now," she amends, giving him a pointed look.

"Thanks mom." Just a breath, and then he turns, patting his friend's shoulder. "She'll take care of you," she hears him whisper and has to smile at the conviction in his voice. He does know her.

A light flutter of a kiss on her cheek, and he is gone, on his way, and Marla finds herself alone with John.

* * *

…

When consciousness tugs at him, he groans out. He is no stranger to pain, but he will never get used to it completely. How it rips into him, how it pulses through his body, making him feel awful.

Another tug, and he is peeling his eyes open slowly. He doesn't want to wake up yet, doesn't want to face the pain, the world, or even just…

… Marla Jameson.

He shoots up abruptly, gasping as he aggravates his injury, and stares at her out of wild eyes.

But she smiles. She smiles at him and lifts her hand as if to placate him.

"It's alright," she whispers, then, as an afterthought, "Hello John."

"Mrs. Jameson? I…" How the hell did he even get here? He had been on his way to Astrid and has absolutely no recollection of… Oh.

He flinches as her fingers touch his side but manages to stay quiet.

"It looks better already. But you'll have to take it easy another few days."

"I'm so sorry, I don't… know how I—"

"Got here?" She smiles and he lets his head hang, rubbing his eyes. He would get up and leave, but she suddenly places a firm hand on his arm, and besides, he feels like someone chewed him then spat him out, leaving him to rot. Not a good feeling. He's had worse.

"Stephen brought you back," she then explains and he nods. He figured as much. Must have not been strong enough for teleporting after all. Messed that up, too. His head is fuzzy, his body aching. He nods at her, trying to smile, then closes his eyes. He feels so damn tired…

"It's alright, John…" She says more, but he can't comprehend the words. He feels himself falling back against the couch, taking a few erratic aching breaths, before they even out and he loses consciousness once more. His body has been through so much during the years, it can't always keep up. It's all too much right now. He pushed himself too hard. Getting shot, teleporting, getting thrown out didn't help with any of that, either. Being on the run, without the safety of the lair as a fallback has taken its toll, and now John Young needs to do as his body - and Marla Jameson - demand: rest.

* * *

…

She sits with the kid the entire day. Calling in to work around noon to let her colleagues know that for the first time in a long while she is going to take a sick day.

"It's one of my boys," she explains, "I'm so sorry to let you hanging, but he really needs me now."

She watches John as she says the words and is relieved when she gets nothing but understanding from the other end of the line.

They're all moms and dads, and there's a special understanding between them all.

...

When Stephen gets home, there's dinner on the table, but John is still fast asleep, and Marla continues to make sure he is doing okay. Still breathing, fever subsiding. She changes the dressings on his wound and is relieved to see the angry red starting to fade ever so slightly. Good. He's coming around, if slowly.

"Who's the dude on the couch?" Luca quietly asks when he comes home from practice, both he and Stephen eyeing their mom warily from the kitchen table where they eat the mac and cheese she made for them. Just out of a box, as usual...

"Guy from work, John?" Stephen explains matter-of-factly, his arms crossed in front of him as he watches his brother dig into the pasta. "He was here a while ago, remember?"

Luca nods absently. "Why's he here? Why's mom so… protective?"

Stephen swallows, then scoffs. "You know her," he evades, then decides to go another route. "Work accident, and then his girlfriend broke up with him."

"Sounds like your kind of week."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Stephen frowns at him, but his brother merely grins. "The girfriend, she cute?"

Stephen makes a face, then grins a little sympathetically over to John. "You have no idea…"

* * *

…

It's in the small hours when John finally comes to for real and he is surprised to see Stephen's mom still (again?) sitting by his side, asleep. He is laying on the couch, vaguely remembering why, before he feels the urge of nature and slowly pushes himself up and off the couch, trying not to wake the sleeping woman.

He shuffles over to the bathroom, a protective arm curled around his abdomen, and winces quietly as the realization hits him that he's still too weak to teleport. What Astrid must have thought when he crashed into her room. He clenches his teeth at the foggy memory he has of the event, wondering what the hell he had been thinking.

Nothing. That's what. He had acted out of instinct, and Astrid had felt safe. Experiences like their lead to a certain kind of trust, it's not surprising, and yet, that he feels safe with the human, with Stephen's best friend of all people, is kind of surprising.

He finishes his business and very slowly walks back over to the couch. Like a goddamn old man.

"Hey," Stephen's mom greets him when he is back and he smiles at her a little sheepishly, still a bit unnerved by this woman having sat there with him like a…

Like a mother.

He swallows, a sudden ache lodging in his throat that he can't get rid of. He is not used to anyone caring for him in this way. There's Cara and Russell, sure. But that's different. Jedikiah... This woman…

"How are you feeling?"

Her gentle question jolts him back before he can stumble too deeply into dark thoughts and his smile widens momentarily.

"Better. I'm sorry for imposing. I'll get on my way. ."

She shakes her head, standing up only to sit down on the couch next to him. Her proximity is equal parts comforting and unnerving. She places a hand on his arm and looks at him, a warm smile on her features that he hasn't seen there before.

" _I'm_ sorry, John. I know you're Stephen's friend and I shouldn't have sent you away in your state. But I just had to—"

"Protect your family," he finishes for her and they nod simultaneously. "I know. I know what it means to protect your family."

"He told me who you are - what you are."

John sighs, wary.

"In a way we're all family, aren't we?"

"I believe so."

She nods once more and all he can suddenly think is that he is in this woman's house, this woman whose husband he killed, whose family he destroyed.

He swallows again, his throat constricting, unbidden tears welling in his eyes. Marla frowns at him with concern and he tries to smile but fails.

"I'm sorry," he says, just that, and the next thing he knows, he finds himself in Marla Jameson's embrace, her slender arms wrapping around him as if he, too, is a son of hers and deserving of her affection. But he isn't. He isn't. If she knew what he did, she would throw him out in a heartbeat.

* * *

...

"It's okay," she whispers when the young man starts tearing up, and while she couldn't quite put her finger on it if someone were to question her, she knows she is doing it because she cares about him. Whatever he has been through - whatever Jedikiah has put him through, it's damn obvious to the mother in her that this kid has suffered way beyond what is visible on his skin.

She has of course seen the other scars. She is a nurse, she has seen it all, and while she doesn't know the exact story these marks tell, she knows enough.

This time, John Young can stay until he's healed up, at least on the outside. It's the least she can do. She is a mother after all, and deep down, she has enough love for all the kids out there.

* * *

…

When he starts making them food, good food, too, nothing from a box, she knows it's his way of repaying her, and little does he know just how touched she is.

Being a single mom is goddamn hard, and the regret and guilt she feels over not being able to cook real meals is often eating at her. (No pun intended.)

They sit together for a few minutes once, eating, chatting. She asks him about his injury but also lighter topics, the last movie he has seen, carefully avoiding what they both know they can't talk about, and it is then that she realizes he loves this little family spiel as much as she does, or Stephen, or Luca.

She doesn't dare ask, but she wonders whether this kid ever had a mom of his own, a loving mom. Because it doesn't seem like it.

If only he could stay forever, she would take him in as one of hers...


End file.
